


in the cradle of your hips

by glitteratiglue



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Dirty Talk, Episode Tag, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: “I’m fine, really, Will,” Deanna insists. “It wasn’t a big thing. I had some fun. Lost my head a little. It happens.”“How much fun?” he asks, his smile cheeky because he knows good and well he’s pushing the envelope with such a question.(Post-The Price. Will and Deanna debrief and get more than a bit carried away.)
Relationships: William Riker/Deanna Troi
Comments: 23
Kudos: 115





	in the cradle of your hips

It’s been a long and moderately humiliating day for Deanna. After the Barzan wormhole turned out to be nothing but a damp squib, Premier Bhavani and the rest of the delegates hastily departed the _Enterprise._

When the end of shift came, she had never been more glad to disappear to her quarters. She’d kicked off her heels, pulled away her constricting tights and replicated herself a soothing Valerian root tea. Will had come along soon enough, as she thought he might. They’d talked for quite some time before getting to the subject she could tell he really wanted to discuss: Devinoni Ral.

She can’t help but feel foolish. The way she’d talked about that man with Beverly, even the way she’d looked at him. It had been quite some time since she’d felt that irresistible rush of infatuation when she met his eyes at the captain’s reception. She'd needed some excitement. If only she didn’t feel so silly about it.

“He asked me to run away with him, you know,” Deanna is saying, a smile on her face, because it sounds just as ridiculous as she repeats it now.

Will’s eyes widen. “And you said…?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

There’s a glimmer of interest in his blue eyes that runs beyond his usual regard for her looks. He’s never tried to hide his attraction to her, and that, she thinks, is what’s enabled them to stay good friends all this time.

“I’m glad,” he says, his grin bright as he reaches for her hand, gives it a friendly squeeze. “We can’t lose our ship’s counselor,” he hastily clarifies. A smirk follows the words, implying that wasn’t what he meant at all.

Deanna sets down her tea. “Something’s been bothering me,” she says. “Devinoni — well, he used his empathic abilities to gain the advantage in negotiations. Unethically. Sometimes I do that, when the captain asks me what I read from a new species, from a potential enemy. Is it the same?” Her face twists, because it’s not easy to say this, even to Will.

Her empathic gifts have so often made her an outsider. Not telepathic enough to be a true Betazoid, and not human enough to make humans feel comfortable around her. She’s at least grateful that on this ship, the crew consider her empathy a great asset to them rather than an ability to be feared.

“Deanna,” Will says softly, and she knows he’s picking up on her feelings in his own way: reading her body language, the tension in her limbs, the look on her face. He’s always been able to read her better than most telepaths.

“I feel like I should be questioning everything I do.”

There’s a tiny flare of anger from him — not directed at her, she can tell. “No,” he says. “Of course you shouldn’t. You don’t use your abilities in the pursuit of profit, to outmaneuver people in negotiations. Okay, maybe there’s situations where a species we make contact with doesn’t know your abilities. But so many of the races we encounter have their own advantages. We don't always know about those, either.” The easy smile is back on his face. “Isn’t that what makes this life exciting? Seeking out new life, new civilisations and all that.”

He strokes a hand over her cheek and she shifts into the touch, wondering how Will always knows what to say to cheer her up.

“Thank you,” Deanna says, because it helps to hear it even though she knows it already.

“I hate that he made you feel like that,” Will says, and there it is again — that small current of anger, with just a hint of jealousy mixed in. He’s never begrudged her for any of her relationships with others — as if he’d have the right, anyway — but Will remains protective of her, regardless. It’s a very human quality and one she is inclined to forgive him for.

“I didn’t tell you,” he continues, “but one night in Ten Forward, he tried to taunt me. Said he’d take you away from me. As if you were my property.” Now Will looks amused. “He did call you passionate, though.”

“Aren’t I?” Deanna replies, fully aware of what she’s doing. It should bother her more, what Will’s telling her about Ral, but it wasn’t much of a stretch beyond what she’d sensed of him, outside of the human physical response he ignited in her. The man didn’t exactly have hidden depths. “What did you tell him?”

“That our friendship was our own business. That you were just the woman to bring meaning into his life, if he was smart enough to take the opportunity.” He grins. “He wasn’t, of course.” Will lowers his voice and adds: “He wasn’t good enough for you, Deanna.”

“That’s something we can both agree on.”

“Are you okay, though?” he asks.

“I’m fine, really, Will,” Deanna insists. “It wasn’t a big thing. I had some fun. Lost my head a little. It happens.”

“How much fun?” he asks, his smile cheeky because he knows good and well he’s pushing the envelope with such a question. His thigh nudges hers, and beneath the surface of his mind she senses the unmistakeable stirrings of lust.

Deanna leans in closer. She’ll play him at this game. “He was pretty keen on my Betazoid massage oils.”

“Now I remember.” Will makes a show of being nonchalant, but his gaze is sharp with interest. “What was that one — zintaba oil? That one always felt great. Or maybe” —he pauses for emphasis— “it was just your hands on me that felt great.”

She presses her thighs together involuntarily, a sudden spike of heat rising inside her from his words.

“Will,” Deanna reproves, but the smile she gives him is pleased. More than it should be.

“What I remember is the way you looked the morning I took over the negotiations,” Will presses. “You were _glowing_ , Deanna.” His voice turns rougher. “Any reason?”

“He was good with his hands,” she says, wondering why her throat’s gone dry. “His mouth.” At that, Will makes the smallest, shocked sound, and the lust she sensed earlier breaks free of his mind and wanders into her own. It’s so familiar, even now: golden, shaded with the deep red of his desire and a smudge of possessiveness that makes her pulse quicken.

 _I can feel that,_ she says into his mind.

 _I know,_ is his entirely unashamed reply. _I wanted you to._

“How good?” He’s got his hands on her shoulders now, pure heat on her skin where his fingers stray past the neckline of her dress.

Deanna can hardly meet his eyes, but she does anyway, seeing the want that’s flickering inside her reflected in his gaze.

It’s a struggle to get the words out: “Good enough that I came three times.”

“Only three?”

_Remember how many times I used to make you come?_

He sends a thought into her mind. The image sharpens until it surrounds her: long ago on Betazed, her younger self stretched out on silk sheets. She’s naked and drenched in sweat, Will’s head between her spread thighs, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from her, urging her along in his mind the whole time. A warm breeze is drifting through the open window and the air around them is thick with lust, with the smell of her, how wet she is —

Deanna knows he’s going to kiss her even before his mouth lowers to hers. The kiss is open, wet and promises much, much more. Her hand is around the back of his neck, his palms already wandering down her sides, raising warmth on her skin.

It’s not the first time. There have been moments before when the boundaries between them have turned threadbare enough to be crossed. When Will declined the _Aries_ , neither of them could hide their emotions and they’d ended up in bed. They brushed it off like they always did, went on with their lives, pursued other lovers. Regardless, Will remains the constant in her life, something she can’t explain even to her mother or Beverly.

Those big but gentle hands are inching the turquoise folds of her dress up her thighs when he pauses, uncertainty on his face. “Imzadi, do you want this? I didn’t mean to push.”

“Don’t you dare stop,” Deanna tells him, a knot of anticipation pulling taut in her lower belly. She covers his hand with hers, lets out her breath in a sigh as it touches her bare thigh. His fingers trace the outline of her underwear.

“Mm, you are wet for me, aren’t you,” Will says, gratified. “I could make you wetter.”

“Please,” she murmurs, and his eyes are dark as he takes her by the hips, moves her along the couch so she’s resting against the pillows. He grabs another pillow for himself and puts it under his knees, gets comfortable on the floor. She’s impatient and slides a hand beneath her dress to tease at her breast, fingers grazing over a peaked nipple as he watches.

“Keep doing that,” Will says.

He can’t keep his eyes off her as he pushes that dress right up around her waist, nudges her thighs apart. Now his mouth is trailing up the inside of her thigh. He keeps his beard soft, but there’s that edge of friction on her sensitive, aching skin that pulls a soft sound from her throat.

 _You like that, don’t you_ , he sends, his voice in her head confident, seductive enough to make more wetness pool at her centre. _And to think you weren’t sure about my beard at first._

He gets to work: making patterns with his tongue, amusing himself with loops and spirals and shapes, turning her skin into a canvas. He’s staying well away from where she needs him, though he’s close enough that her scent is all around him, close enough to taste her.

“Will,” Deanna says, fingers sliding into his hair. Then, silently: _Stop teasing. You’re driving me crazy._

 _That’s the idea._ His laugh in her head is throaty as he presses his hands to her thighs to stop her pushing against him.

Then the heat of his breath is on her and he takes one long, slow lick of her through the satin that makes her sigh.

_You’re soaked, Deanna. You’re so wet I can taste you through this._

She loves the way Will says her name at moments like these, like it's a prayer, something precious that belongs to him alone. The fierce heat in his mind entangles with her own need and she feels it all: how much he loves this, how much he gets off on pleasing her.

“I love the way you taste,” he says, the words half a groan as he leans in, his tongue tracing the edge of the satin. One hand leaves her hip, and there’s the touch of his fingertips as he gently pulls the fabric to the side, exposing her for him.

Shaking with anticipation, she rolls a nipple between her fingers and a shock of arousal runs through her, head to toe.

 _That’s it, touch them for me while I’m busy down here._ _You know what you like._

At the same time, he drags his tongue over her, where she’s swollen and can feel the pulse beneath her skin from how turned on she is. He’s still teasing, but then he presses his tongue to the side of her clit, in just the right place and she moans loudly: “Oh, Will, please.”

Her fingers are carding through his hair, encouraging him. _I love it when you do this to me._

_How can I not? You taste so good; I can’t get enough of it._

He’s still holding a handful of satin, pulled taut against her skin and it's getting uncomfortable. Her hand slides over to her other breast, where the bodice is cut lower, and squeezes at it.

 _Attagirl,_ he sends, and she laughs.

He pulls back enough to look up at her, mouth wet and shiny. “Let’s take these off.”

She lifts herself, wiggles her hips so he can draw her underwear down, and they share a smile of relief. Impatient, Deanna gets her skirts out of the way, tucking them up so they won't encumber him. Will lifts each leg, settles them over his shoulders with a gentle kiss to each calf that has her shivering already.

Then his hand’s gliding up her thigh and two fingers are sliding into her with ease.

“You’re sopping, Deanna,” Will tells her, his voice unsteady, starting to move those fingers just a bit, curling them a little until she moans. “So wet for me.” He dips his head, lays a kiss on the ridge where thigh meets hip. “God, I can smell you from here.”

There’s a wet sound as he pulls his fingers from her, then reaches up to run his tongue right over them, licking them clean. Deanna almost wants to look away; it’s intimate, so sweet and filthy that it tugs at that space in her heart she’s always kept for Will.

“Did he tell you how great you taste?” Will says, a knowing glint in his eyes as he brings up the subject of their earlier conversation. “He better have.”

“Mm, he did.”

 _But did it turn you on as much?_ His grin in her mind is pure arrogance, and she swats at his shoulder.

“Are you all talk and no action, Will Riker?” Her hands are resting on the couch now; anything to steady herself.

In answer, Will gets his hands on her thighs, pushes them even wider apart so he can hold her open.

 _You’re going be a mess when I’m done with you_ , he promises.

Her arousal’s been building the whole time, from the initial embers to the flame now inside them both, and she feels it catch light when his tongue touches her again.

Her hips buck forward, and she has to grab at his hair when he starts up a slow rhythm, tracing circles round her clit.

“Oh God, Will, faster,” she gasps out, and he obliges, groaning a little as he tastes her.

_I can feel you; you’re throbbing. You're so close already. Good girl._

He sends a flash of her hand beneath her dress, adds, commanding but soft: _Pinch your nipples for me. That always helps you come._

Deanna reaches up, does as he says, shuddering at the additional sensation as his tongue traces circles around her clit, deliberately avoiding the one spot that’ll take her over the edge.

_Will, that’s so good, please —_

She’s wound so tight that it's only seconds later when she reaches for the hand he’s got on her hip, grips it tightly.

“Harder, please,” she begs, desperately.

Will doesn't have the heart to deny her. He flicks his tongue against that perfect, sensitive spot once, twice, three times and she breaks apart for him _—_ “Oh, Will, yes, mm,” _—_ her hips rocking against his face while he pulls her in with the hand on her hip.

 _Oh God oh God oh God,_ she's saying in his mind as she continues to ride it out. It’s almost too much; Deanna tries to wriggle away while also wanting to get closer. He knows it, though, knows her body well enough that he doesn’t let her get away and just holds her hips down, keeps her open for him.

 _That’s it, breathe, there you go, keep coming,_ he encourages as the shocks continue to burn through her, keeping all his movements soft, knowing she’s sensitive while wanting to keep her on that plateau where she can come and come and come.

His fingers squeeze hers tightly as he makes his tongue flat, continues licking at her gently until she can take it harder again, _go on, come for me, you can,_ and that’s what tips her over in a rush of searing heat and “ _Imzadi_ , oh God, I’m coming again, don’t stop, don’t stop —”

_I’m not gonna stop. There you go, you’ll feel it more this time. I think we’ll get you two more; stay with me, Deanna, you can do it._

It lasts longer this time, her thighs pressing to either side of his head as he keeps her hovering in that delicious place where release and pleasure meet. Deanna reminds herself not to pull away this time, lets Will continue to work her skilfully with his mouth until that orgasm extends into a third, then a fourth and she’s seeing spots in front of her eyes and it almost hurts —

_It’s so good, Will, please, please, oh —_

He groans against her, his rhythm faltering for a second. Warm, red-tinged desire that isn’t her own sweeps into her mind and she realises he’s coming, too, swept away on the tide of her orgasms. When it subsides, he keeps on going, but now it’s too much.

“You can stop,” she gasps out, reaching for his hair, _Will, stop._ He stills, moves back so his cheek can rest on her thigh while he catches his breath.

She smiles, elated as Will drops back to his knees, letting her legs down from his shoulders to dangle over the edge of the couch. His mouth is swollen, his beard slick with her; he looks thoroughly unkempt.

Deanna shifts, feeling the wet spot on the couch beneath her. Will rubs a hand over his beard, reaches down to pat at where a stain is already spreading across the front of his pants.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he says, laughing. “Feeling you come on my tongue — I’d forgotten how incredible it is. _”_ His voice is half a growl; it makes her shiver.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Deanna says, slightly dazed. She’s sure she looks an utter mess; sweaty, her dress bunched up and creased, her inner thighs wet enough they’re almost sticking together.

An image of her floats into her mind from his, and it’s not far from what she imagined. _You’re glowing_.

_Flatterer._

Deanna is hot enough that the fabric is clinging to her skin. In seconds she’s raised her arms and pulled the dress away, and her bra follows in seconds.

Will can't help but stare for a moment. Then he leans right in, rubs his beard all over the space between her breasts, making her slick there.

“Will,” she reproves, but can’t say much more when he takes a tight nipple into his mouth, his tongue wet and warm around it.

 _I love your tits,_ he sends, playful.

Deanna laughs. _You human males,_ she teases.

Will is intent on drawing other sounds out of her. Moving to her other breast, he leaves teeth marks on her skin along the way before he bites down on her nipple, very carefully. She moans softly, stretching the sound out for his benefit.

He pauses, gestures to himself. “One sec. This really isn’t comfortable.”

Will hastily unzips his uniform, uses it to clean himself up as best he can before discarding it.

He kisses her, wet and messy; she’s all over his mouth, his chin and she really couldn’t care less. She stretches up into the kiss, reclining against the back of the couch as he leans over her.

He thinks she looks like some kind of queen or goddess; a being to be worshipped, regardless.

Deanna grins at that thought. “Goddess, really?” she says, breaking away from his mouth.

“Going to hold my every thought against me, are we?” he returns.

Though she’s wrung out, she can feel the ache of new desire unfurling between her thighs. “What do you want to do? We could..."

She lets her thoughts shade into his and supplies the suggestion of him inside her, once he's had some time to recover.

“I think I'm good for now.” Will grins at her, very pleased with himself. “And I didn’t say we were finished.”

“Aren’t you tired?” Deanna says, teasing, but she’s already spreading her thighs for him.

He gives her an incredulous look. “Never too tired to taste you again, imzadi,” he says. This time he lifts her leg higher, bends her knee so her foot rests on the couch, getting her nice and wide for him. She hooks the other leg over his shoulder, her eyes locked on his the entire time, watching him take in the sight of her like this.

She’s so wet from his earlier attentions it’s trickling down the inside of her thigh. Eagerly, Will catches the drop with his tongue before laying the softest kisses on damp, trembling skin.

 _I’m a mess,_ she sends, knowing he knows she isn’t the slightest bit embarrassed by that.

Heat burns through the thread of their mental connection, stoking something primal within him: that he’s the only one who can do this to her, who can wreck her this much until she’s begging for more.

 _And you know I love it,_ he replies _._ He’s kissing his way up each thigh, then back down again, taking his time.

Deanna’s hands come down to rest on his head. She pulls lightly at his hair, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He wraps a hand around the underside of her raised thigh, holding her in place for him.

She senses the anticipation in his head, knows that first lap of his tongue is coming even before it touches her, but she still moans, her hips shifting towards him. She’s so sensitive she could squirm away, but his mouth is hot where it surrounds her clit and she lets herself relax into it.

_Want me to stop?_

_God, no. It might take a while, though._

_Just trust me. I'll make you come again, I promise._

One hand is splayed out on her hip, and she reaches for the other one, lacing her fingers into his. Gradually, the overstimulated feeling fades and she starts climbing back up again. Her fingers tighten in his hair as she tries to pull his head closer: he knows what she wants, licks at her harder and doesn’t let up the rhythm one bit. She can feel him in her head — how much he wants to feel her come, how proud he is that he can do this to her:

_I’m so close, Will, please, I’m going to come —_

She’s gasping, so close, almost there.

Deanna lets out a shaky breath, grips Will's fingers tight enough that his knuckles turn white. He meets her eyes, his gaze hungry at the same time he speaks in her mind, gentle but assertive:

_There you go, Deanna, just let yourself go, breathe through it, come on, come on —_

It’s the strongest one yet: she comes hard and intense under his tongue while she flushes all over, shaking, almost yanking the hair out of his scalp as she grinds on his face. He lets her raised leg slip from the couch and true to his word, he keeps right on going. She tries to breathe between every wave of pleasure, nearly screaming the words as they spill out of her: _imzadi_ and _please_ and _yes_ and _mm_ and _don't stop_.

 _I’ve got_ _you_ ; _it'_ _s okay_. _Can you come one more time for me?_

Deanna can't even speak anymore, but in his head, he hears, _please._

The sixth time she comes, she’s clamping his face so tightly that he sends _I can’t breathe_ , and she relaxes her trembling thighs, laughing through the remainder of the orgasm as he licks her through the aftershocks.

She pulls him up to kiss her in way of apology. He rubbed his face over her thigh on the way up but it’s still wet and sticky enough that they both laugh. He slumps down beside her, looking as tired as she feels.

“Six times, Will?” Deanna says weakly, letting her head fall back to the couch cushions. “Was that really necessary?”

“Are you complaining?” Will grins. “Anyway, you know I had to make you come twice as much as he did.”

“I knew it,” Deanna says, triumphant. “I’m not sure I’ll ever understand the obsession human males have with comparing themselves to others.”

“I guess it’s one of my many human failings,” he says cheerfully.

“I think you’re just as much a mess as I am,” she says, running her thumb over his damp beard. Her eyes slide lower, to where he’s clearly hard again. “Want me to —”

Will shakes his head, emphatically. “Not tonight. But I’ll stay, if that’s okay?”

He gets them both some water from the replicator and that's when she realises how tired she is. Ignoring the pressing need to shower, they crawl straight into bed. Will wraps himself around her, the way he always does on nights like this. Deanna sighs, presses back into his warmth.

“I feel like my jaw might fall off,” he admits with a smile against her neck she can feel. “Totally worth it, though.”

“Thank you,” Deanna says, exhausted but happy.

Will strokes fingers through her hair. “Don’t think anything of it. Anytime.” He pauses. They both know next week it could be somebody else. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“I do.”

It’s the best sleep she’s had all week.

Next morning, she’s aware of the pleasant throb between her thighs the moment she wakes up. The sheets are cold beside her.

Will is already moving around. He looks freshly showered, his hair is neatly combed and he’s wearing a new uniform he must have replicated.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, bending down to kiss her cheek; she can smell mint toothpaste on his breath.

“I don’t have an appointment until ten,” Deanna says, her voice thick with sleep.

There’s an unreadable expression on Will’s face. Quick as anything, he moves his hand under the blanket, right between her thighs. She’s sore and aching, but his fingers only ghost over her with the lightest touch before he pulls them back.

“Still all wet from me, aren’t you,” he says, and the feral heat in his eyes makes her sit up, the last vestiges of sleep fading away. “I’m going to be thinking about that all day.”

She watches him suck on each finger, very deliberately, getting them clean before he wipes the hand off on his uniform. “I’m going up to the bridge now, and I’ll still be able to taste you on my tongue when I get there.”

“You,” Deanna says, feigning shock. “If the captain knew…”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Have a good day, imzadi.” Will grins at her happily on his way out the door.

She rolls over in bed and stretches, already certain of what she’ll be thinking about for the rest of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Profane_ by Ashe Vernon.


End file.
